The Death of My Father My father and I went hiking together just about every year since I was born. Some years it would be just the two of us, and some years my brother David would come too. When we first begin doing this, we used to stay in our own tent that we would carry upon our backs, but as my father got older, we gradually shifted from tents to staying in lean-tos, then log shelters, and finally to the comfort of the huts that the Appalachian Mountain Club runs on some of the ranges in the White Mountains. With these huts, you get to the top of a peak and find blankets and a hot meal waiting for you. My father and I left three days ago for our annual hike. On our second day, two days ago, we had had a long, but good, day. We had made it most of the way up Mount Lafayette on the edge of the beautiful Pemigwaset wilderness, and we pulled into the Appalachian Mountain Club hut there for a meal. We were enjoying our dinner together, and he was looked comfortable and content. Just before dessert was to be served, my father suddenly slumped forward in his seat and died. Halfway through our hike on the day that he died, I thought my father might have looked a little tired, and I suggested that perhaps we should turn around and take an easier route to a different hut, but he didn't want to. He said that he was doing fine and that besides, we had already made reservations at this particular hut. I said to him: "If something happens to you, do you want people to say `He kept on going because he didn't want to lose his hut reservation?" And he replied, "I think that if something happened, they'd say: `he did it because that's who he was.'" I can say that he died peacefully in a beautiful place and I can say that he probably died proud, not just proud of the determined recovery he had made from a car accident this past winter, but proud of living his life as he always had - making his own choices and choosing his own path. But these things will never be any real consolation to us for the 20 years more that my father should have been with us, sharing his unique mix of stubbornness, humor, wisdom, cynicism, and especially love - a love of life, a love of his family and a love of his community.
With over 175 weeks on the number one slot, this band has been the most famous and influential band ever. It all started as a quartet from England, dreaming a dream, a dream about music, and a dream about life. The year is 1960, and 4 young teenage boys are recording their first song “Love Me Do.” Little did they know how famous they would become. I’m talking of course about the famous band, the Quarrymen. Oh, you have never heard of them? You may know them better as “The Beatles”, a band composed of four members. John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr made up this legendary quartet. What these four boys did not know, was that only a few measly years after their first single, that they would be starting riots. Concerts sold out, and thousands of people imitating their every move. We have all heard the success story of the Beatles, but I am going to tell you how it all began. (“Beatlemania”)
Can you single out just one day from your past that you can honestly say changed your life forever? I know I can. It was a typical January day, with one exception; it was the day the Pope came to St. Louis. My brother and I had tickets to the youth rally, and we were both very excited. It was destined to be an awesome day- or so we thought. The glory and euphoria of the Papal visit quickly faded into a time of incredible pain and sorrow, a time from which I am still emerging.
The musical counterculture of the 1960s challenged the traditional cultural values and American and group identities that came from the Jazz era. The new age of Rock was seen as psychedelic as it broke free from previous restraints and “social norms.” The youth were the majority of this movement and they desired to break away from the suburbia lifestyle their parents had set up for them. The musical counterculture shattered the American value of music being separate amongst different races. Thus, the musical revolution of the 1960s challenged traditional American values, which created significant opposition.
At the live shows there would be a sections blocked of for the tapers. They would all set up their recording equipment and would then capture every moment of the show. Then in 1983 Phish played their first gig and also started to develop a very loyal and dedicated fan base. Phish too allowed and encouraged their fans to record their live performances. The Dead heads and Phish heads that recorded the shows made the shows live on forever for many fans. The tapers first started trading tapes of the shows with fans who requested a specific show. Then they actually put all of their shows on the internet to be available for download for free. Sites were dedicated to downloading Phish and Grateful Dead shows. Any show you wanted was pretty much available for download and at no cost. This gave the loyal fans a chance to relive the experience they went through at the shows and was completely permitted by the bands even though they were not receiving any royalties. Now in the year 2004 other bands have finally caught on to the wonderful idea of recording live shows and making it available to their fans. However, it is not exactly the same way that the Grateful Dead and Phish used to do it. It all started when in 2003 Phish began an official website called www.
I am writing this to you on the anniversary of my father's passing, out of a deep concern for your future. My desire is that, by reading this, you may avoid some of the pain that my generation has experienced. Many things have come and gone in my lifetime, for God has granted me a long 60 years. I wish to tell you all that I have experienced, before I too pass on, that you may learn from the mistakes of the past, and that our losses may not be in vain.
I've never been more glad for something in my life. He would be so glad for me, I need him to be pleased with me. At whatever time I take a gander at the youngsters, I see him. Many kids, and they all help me to remember him. He would have adored them, they would have cherished him. At his burial service, everybody discussed how they didn't give him kudos for all that he did. It's decent of them to say that, yet it's past the point of no return. They can't lament how they acted on the grounds that he's dead at this point. I got so much pity. Pity that I didn't need, pity I didn't require, pity won't take him back to
Guess what? I was right about the air. A few days later, my father said he felt really hot. Over the next few days, black spots and boils started appearing all over my father’s body. I knew that he was soon going to die. As he lay on his deathbed, he told me, “John, once I die, the officials are going to board the house up. I don’t know...
When I go to sleep at night, do you care? Do you even miss us? Your bottles and mistress I need to know, I need to know why are you walking away. Was it something I did? Did I make a mistake? I was raised by my mother for the majority of my infant years the reason is because my father left before I was born. He went missing for a few years and we didn’t know how he was or if he even was alive, I remember thinking to myself, if my father ever thought of us while he was “missing”. One faithful day out of the blue we received an old crusted letter and it was from my father stating that he was no longer in Mexico and was inside the United States. “What on Earth was he doing there”, I thought to myself. Over the course of my beginning years I didn’t
Today in every country around the world there exists censorship laws regarding what is appropriate to be broadcast on television and radio for consumption by the general public. Things such as inappropriate or offensive language, references to drugs, criminal activities or even references to sex can be deemed inappropriate and not broadcast. The question arises, is this something done for the good of the public, or is this censoring a violation of our freedom to hear or see what we want to, and is it also a violation of the freedom of the artist to not play their music or to force them to change and compromise their art if they want it to be played on the radio.
Oh Sh*t! The door slams shut in my face, and suddenly I am stuck in a tight, dark room, where I can’t even move my arms to be able to scratch my nose. It feels as if I have been buried alive, as if I am stuck in a coffin. Every second goes by painfully, seconds feel like hours, and minute’s feel like days.
Having your parent get really hurt, with you being the only one to help, can be an extremely scary experience. One of the most frightening moments I have ever encountered was watching my dad saw off his thumb off. While building our new home, he continuously found new ways to injure himself, but it had never been this bad before. The sight of my dad cutting off his thumb was horrific and the ride there was just as terrifying. Though at the time, what I did not know was that this experience might have led me to the career path I am pursuing today.
It has been twelve years since my father passed away. To this day I live with guilt from my mother that I did not become a fisherman like she had wanted. I went to university and became a professor at Midwestern University in Illinois. I like to think that at least I made my father happy. He had wanted me to go to school and get an education because he had never had an opportunity to. From a young age he had been a fisherman just like his father and my grandpa’s father. It was the norm to be a fisherman from where I’m from in Port Hawkesbury which is on the Cape Breton Island.
What made the death of my mother a stressor for me was that besides the fact that I lost my mother, her passing was so sudden; she was alive when I went to bed that night and then she was not when I woke up the next morning. She had been unwell for a really long time, but none of us had ever thought that it was bad enough to take her life. Her death affected every aspect of my life and my family’s life; it forever changed my relationship with my father and it will continue to affect how my family operates for the rest of our lives. If she had not died, then my father would not have remarried and I would not have gotten a stepmother; that is just another aspect that was permanently altered by one event. On top of that, she passed away at home
It was a Sunday morning. We got the call from the convalescent home. I went up with my mother and brother. As I walked in, I remember seeing him in the bed. He just looked so peaceful; it was the best thing that could have happened. Even so, death is terrible no matter what the condition of the person. No one is prepared to accept death no matter what, where or how it happens.
Probably the most widely known subculture in modern society would be the jam Band scene. This subculture is lead by a band called Phish. Phish and its followers define a new generation that seems to be a mix of late 1960’s drug culture and peace loving hippies. After Jerry Garcia’s death in 1995, people wondered who would carry the torch of being the next band to have a Grateful Dead-like following. Phish was the answer to this question. Although Phish is currently on hiatus, their spirit lives on in their fans who continue to listen to the music and live the lifestyle.